autogeography

i knew many of your life stories, and never tired of hearing them over and over again.

where i have touched three bodies since yours, i do not know the stories of those bodies, can't tell anything of their experiences.

Laying with them, i think of your stories, the smallest details, the sound of your voice as i anticipate its rising and falling as the story unfolds.

monsters in residence

Friday night I drove down the Escape Road to meet friends at a bar in Galilee, the second time in as many weeks. At the end, I saw the small turret like structure that we took the girls to after you met me at the BI ferry. The same trip where I carelessly lost my wedding ring; the guilt would haunt me for months... years.

The girls, or perhaps L, was into a phase where every game involved a monster, so she said that she wanted to play "Monster under the stairs" as she and C climbed to the second "floor." We complied, hid under the stairs and growled on cue as they descended.

I smiled weakly as I thought about the monster that was under the stairs for the next two years of our marriage.

full circle, full moon

I am not sure this fits in here. Perhaps writing it out will tell me.

I am both enamored with and embarrassed by my propensity to record my past: boxes of letters, photos, dried flowers, ticket stubs, the like, the most trivial items collected and fastidiously stored. I like having these items for the photographs and films they create in my head.

I am embarrassed that they may be Frankenstein monsters I hope will come to life.

Tonight I came across a box from Esmeralda, my first love, the first woman who gave me water. It was the beginning of my life, five years of amazing conversation, friendship, nakedness and growth. Unfortunately, I realized that I did not want to marry her, and broke her heart. In the box, deep with her letters, was one she had written as we deteriorated in the Fall of 1990. She had returned to me a story I had written her while substitute teaching, and in the story I used a hall Pass to ask her on a date. Her words settled in me with such sincerity, something I am sure I missed eighteen and a half years ago when first given to me. In her words, I heard my words to ExA: the longing to not let go, wondering what happened, and a declaration that love will never die.

I realized that I still love Esmeralda, and hoped ExA will have the same revelation some day.

A verse from a cover of a Will Oldham song, by Koz.... new partner:

Well, I would not have moved if I knew you were here
Its some special action with motives unclear
Now you'll haunt me, you'll haunt me
Till I've paid for what I've done
It's a payment which precludes the having of fun

The line about "i would not have moved if I knew you were here" is so beautiful, prods the smile tear machine every time.

The memories that are good, the ones that remind me why I loved you, often involve you laying on me, against me. I set about studying your skin like it was to be decoded.

Last night, as C graduated pre-school, I caught a glimpse of your bare left arm and a freckle- I remembered it, but oddly didn't.

If you didn't move, I wouldn't have known you were there.